The Spleen Is a Non-Vital Organ
by chezchuckles
Summary: Kind of a follow-up to Significant Others. Two chapters. Kate gets sick.
1. Chapter 1

**The Spleen Is a Non-Vital Organ**

* * *

She drags for a few days.

Good word, he thinks. Drags, draggy, dragging. She does that.

He watches Beckett like he's always watched Beckett, so she doesn't even really notice. His ears are safe.

He's got enough experience now with Alexis's mono to know the signs. Mainly tiredness. Alexis came home to sleep it off; she didn't even really have a lot of head cold stuff, just a persistent sore throat, and her sinuses got stopped up. And she slept.

A lot.

A whole lot.

Which was why Meredith had finally left, of course. Thank goodness for small favors. Immediately after his ex-wife flew to Paris, Alexis's mono fell off the cliff into severe aches and swollen lymph nodes and her stomach seemed to hurt. He took her back to the doctor and discovered it was merely an enlarged spleen.

"Merely an enlarged _spleen_," he hisses to Beckett. "I mean. Seriously."

"Seriously," Kate echoes, and he knows she's not exactly paying attention.

He's not telling her this because he's really all that concerned. It's just a safe subject to introduce the not-safe subject.

Like.

_I think you might have mono, Beckett, and based on the doctor's warnings to Alexis, you probably shouldn't be at work right now._

Not safe. Definitely not a safe subject.

"Do you know what happens with an enlarged spleen, Beckett?"

She turns her head from a study of the board, and he can see it's an effort to bring her focus back to him. But she tries. And she manages it too; she's present with him and bringing her attention to bear on his 'problem' (aka whining).

He loves her. Look at her, actually _trying_ and being concerned and participatory. In this. She's in this.

And it stumbles him for a moment, makes him stare dumbly at her until he too can bring himself back to the present.

She lifts an eyebrow while he makes this attempt, then arousal dumps hotly over her face, a burn of lust that glitters her eyes and makes her mouth part, and even as his own body is responding to her automatically, he realizes she thought he was fantasizing about her in that one distracted instant.

And she's hot for it.

Her fingers curl at his on the edge of her desk, a second's connection, and then she stands up and paces to the board, and then she turns back to him.

"Alexis doing okay?"

"Oh. She's back at school for two days a week. Still wipes her out. But the enlarged spleen. That's what has me worried."

Not for Alexis. Though it's there, hovering at the edges. But Alexis - naw, he's not worried about her that much.

It's Kate.

Who has mono.

He is almost 100% certain.

She drags. She is dragging. She looks exhausted.

Which means she has an enlarged spleen.

Which leads him to-

"Enlarged spleen," she says, lifting an eyebrow at him again as if to say, _get on with it._

"She can't do any horse-back riding," he spits out stupidly. Ung, not the best work there. Little panicky. And he's not panicky about Alexis. She's fine - well, she'll be fine. She's getting there. It's Kate. And her horse-back riding-like activities.

"Oh, well. Does she do a lot of that?" Kate asks, being really just too nice and consoling now. She's making such a beautiful effort, really she is. Has she always done this and he just didn't notice? Because he's paying attention now, and not really as wrapped up in himself as he usually is, and so he's seeing just how _good_ a girlfriend - a friend - she really is to him.

Not that he's ever been complaining. Just that, really, they are at work, her work, and he's distracting her from the case, and all to talk about his own problems - which are admittedly made up at this point - but she's still considerate and concerned and trying to talk him down.

He dives back into it. "She doesn't ride that much, but I mean full body contact is out."

Kate's eyebrow does that dance, that smirking dance, the fall and lift again that means she's holding back some really great joke.

"I would think," she says slowly. "You'd be grateful there's less fully body contact."

Oh. Haha. That's a good one. "Thanks for that. Really. The mental images springing forth are just lovely."

"You said it."

"You went there. And no. This is really about the fact that any hard shove or a fall - say a tackle? - has the potential to rupture her spleen. Kate. _Rupture her spleen."_

She gives him a sympathetic look. "Yeah, that doesn't sound good. But I doubt Alexis does a lot of tackling? And I assume you'll ease up on the laser tag games anyway, so no falls or shoves from you."

"Haha," he says gruffly. She hasn't seen his point yet. He'll have to spell it out. "She doesn't. But you do."

"Laser tag? Not in years." And then her face does that melting thing, where she gets a good idea that she's going to attribute to him, give him the credit for. "Oh, but we should. It'd be fun, Castle." Her eyes are bright and hopeful on him, a shy smile, like he sometimes gets to see now, where she's laying it out for him, her secret and vulnerable places, and offering it to him with a toe digging in the dirt.

She's adorable. She's really just adorable. And how can he possible say no? "Yeah. You really wanna play with me?"

And then all that shy adorableness gets swept right off her face in favor of a sultry, devious look and he gasps because he doesn't even need her to _say_ it; he knows. He knows. Filthy, amazing mind.

He grins and wishes he could kiss her, but he settles for just staring at her for a moment until he remembers the point of all this.

"Oh, not what I was going for. The laser tag is fine - good idea. But. I meant. You do tackling."

"Mm," she murmurs, more like a hum really, and that look, _that_ look. Oh wow. Yeah, gotta stop staring at each other like this if he wants to make it out with any shred of dignity. She mentioned once something about locking the cameraman in a supply closet?

No. No, back to _the point._

"Suspect tackling, Beckett. And takedowns. And that kind of thing. Full body contact of the innocent variety." Oh. Well. "Of the guilty variety. Of the alleged guilty - huh. This is just sounding worse and worse."

She's giving him one of those head shaking smiles, and then it seems to dawn on her because she stutters to a stop and stares at him.

"Castle, I do not have mono."

He winces at her. "I think-"

"It's been a long week, and a long case, and I am just - a little tired."

A lot tired. "You fell asleep on me last night."

"I fell - oh." She flushes and glances around the bullpen, then she steps closer to him with a berating look. "I didn't fall asleep. You took too long."

"I was practically-"

"Shut _up_," she hisses. "I do not have mono."

He shuts up.

But she _does._

* * *

If she has mono, she's gonna kill him.

It's got to be his fault, right?

Except _he_ doesn't have mono, so she can't have mono either. She's only been kissing him.

Kate bites her lip as that thought filters in, and she sinks back down to her desk chair, still watching the board like it'll reveal its secrets. She's got about three more days on this case before it gets boxed and she'll have to make copies of everything to stick in a folder and put it in a drawer so that she can get to it when the time comes where she can go back to her cold cases and just-

be less tired than this and actually figure it out.

She is tired. She'll admit that much. She can feel the ache in her head starting up every time she looks to the murder board, which really isn't any different than a normal case, and it's possible she's getting a head cold.

It's possible.

If he doesn't have mono, then she doesn't either.

She's sticking to that.

* * *

She curls up in the couch and rests her cheek against the back as she watches him make dinner for them both - and Alexis too, who is at home still, asleep upstairs. She doesn't think Alexis is even coming down for dinner; she's been taking meals in her bed when she can wake up long enough to eat.

Kate licks her dry lips and rouses from the couch, seeking lip gloss. She left some here on his dresser top, and when she heads into the cool and dim interior of his room, she flips on the lamp and searches for the tube.

Her eyes graze over the framed photo of Castle and his daughter and mother, a well-done family portrait from maybe four years ago. Alexis looks young, and Castle looks immature, and she has to smile. She snags the gloss and unscrews it, skates color and moisture back over her lips, puts it back. She stands in his bedroom with her eyes closed a moment, how lovely it is to just stand there and do nothing, be nothing, and then she sways on her feet.

Sways.

She's so disoriented that she stumbles forward into the dresser and the frame knocks over and crashes into her lip gloss and it goes rolling to the floor and she can't even catch it in time. She just watches it fall.

And then Castle comes through the door and stares at her.

"Kate. You have-"

"No," she insists and swoops down to pick up her fallen lip gloss.

She fights hard to stay balanced and puts it back, and then she sways again and he's there.

So she pushes into him and stays, arms around his waist until he hugs her back. He doesn't say anything either, which is so nice, a relief really, and she closes her eyes again and hangs on to him through the dizzying wave of exhaustion.

"You don't have to eat dinner," he murmurs against the top of her head. "Just get in bed, Kate. It can heat up later - midnight snack."

She stays right where she is and almost - almost - gives in.

But she's really okay. It's not mono.

"No, Castle. You worked hard," she smiles, tilting her head back to look at him. "Let's go eat."

* * *

She has a cold.

She feels like crap.

She is going in to work today. Nobody better try to stop her.

Beckett takes a shower first, instead of coffee, hoping the heat and the water will loosen the thickness in her head. She feels clobbered.

She realizes she's been standing under the spray for too long, rouses to start washing her hair. She finds herself drifting in the middle of her routines, coming to consciousness only when the razor drops from her fingers or the soap circles the drain or the water gets in her eyes.

She has a cold. Yes. She can admit that.

She could kill Castle, though. Yesterday when she had to give chase to their homeless witness, she did a half-stutter step because of the things he's said about _ruptured spleens_ and _one rough tackle_. She nearly lost their man because of it, and without that testimony, they wouldn't be closing the case today.

His fault. All his fault. He's lucky she's so fast.

And well - she looked up information on the spleen and really. Really. It's not that big a deal.

She turns off the water and shivers in the sudden absence of heat, pulls the shower curtain aside to grab a towel. Still freezing, but she ignores the discomfort and scrapes her hair back, rings it out into the tub. She has to pull strands of hair from between her fingers, a whole clump of it, more than usual.

Beckett runs a comb through it, gets even more hair, frowning at herself in the mirror. Hormones, usually, but it's the wrong week for it. There's stress too - that can do it, and now that she thinks about it, she's pulled hair from the tub for a while now.

She needs to let go of this case. The sooner it's wrapped, the better. And then she'll invite herself over to Castle's loft for the weekend and veg. He likes to putter around her, ply her with wine and food, make lewd suggestions when she's least expecting it. It'll be a nice weekend.

She takes Vitamin C with her coffee and - for good measure - sucks on a zinc lozenge as she blow dries her hair.

She has to brush her teeth three times to get the nasty taste out of her mouth, but she feels better already.

* * *

Kate falls asleep on him.

And this time, it's actually on him, and not _on_ in the sense of her falling asleep while he's in the middle of foreplay (which was all her idea in the first place).

No, she actually lies down with him on the couch (Exhibit A for the prosecution) and then while he channel surfs and tries to decide which HBO on Demand show to watch, she falls asleep (Exhibit B). She's not so much on him as curled at his side, half on and half off, but when he pushes her hair back to wake her, she doesn't wake.

She's really out of it.

Castle watches Oz, because she hates that show, and then he gets sucked into a season one marathon of The Wire, which he finds both fascinating and horrifying and entirely too real. In a gritty way, which he feels like he's caught glimpses of with Beckett, but he's never seen it quite so stark.

He has this odd moment where he wonders if maybe it _was_ so stark, if it used to be, and if the guys at the precinct all banded together to keep him out of the worst of it in the beginning. Keep him from knowing. Because there were only a handful of cases he was allowed on that first year, maybe only ten, and while some crazy stuff has gone down since then, it's nothing like this.

Well, no. Okay, sometimes it is like this.

But it's not quite so brutal. She's here, and that makes everything really-

Yeah. Okay. He's in love with her and that's gotta be the explanation. For so many things - even for the last three or four years' worth of not-so-gritty cases. Because some of those were really bad. She _arrested_ him. She cried about it; he had to make a prison break without even telling her about it and then-

And then she came, she found him in the Public Library, and everything was good again and smiles and she was in his arms and-

he is one gigantic sap.

And she definitely has mono.

He's laid here on the couch with her for five hours tonight, and he realizes now that he's been stroking his fingers through her hair and rubbing his hand over her back and caressing her as he's been reminiscing about how good they are together and she hasn't woken up _once_ to tell him off for being creepy.

She's got mono.

* * *

She grunts awake, feeling like crap, eyes burning and her body aching. Her mouth is dry and sock-like, and she can't get away from the tangle of sheets. She moves to get out of bed and can't help the groan that comes out of her mouth.

He stirs beside her, a snuffling sigh, and she trips in the sheets and falls to the floor, her knees cracking and her teeth jarring. And she wakes up a little, rubs her face into the side of the mattress, sighs at her own stupidity.

She's definitely got a cold. She wants to go home.

Kate shuts the door to his bathroom and presses her palms to the countertop, blinks at herself in the mirror. Boba Fett's dark presence makes her jump, her heart pounding madly, and she curses Castle again for that thing. She flicks on the faucet and cups her hands under the cool water, splashes it over her face, rubs her eyes fiercely, then pats her cheeks dry with a towel.

She gives Fett a death stare and turns in the bathroom to look for her clothes. She searches for her pants, but she can't remember what happened to them. Can't remember actually taking them off, now that she thinks about. In fact, she might have fallen asleep on the couch.

Oh, yeah, that's it. Did Castle carry her to bed? Huh. Didn't think he had it in him.

Kate grins but winces, her whole face aching, her very bones tight against her skin. She rolls her shoulders and opens the bathroom door to find Castle standing there, about to knock.

He tilts his head at her, his hand coming to her hip and his eyes sleepy. "What are you - oh. You sick?"

She nods. "I feel bad. I'm gonna go home."

He shakes his head. "Now?"

"I'm sick," she mutters, rubbing her eyes. "I feel bad. I want to go home."

"Just - sleep here and I'll take you in the morning."

She presses her hand to her cheek, can't even shake her head. Her face is hot. "No, I want-"

"Right, yeah. I get it. Like Alexis - just want your own bed. I'll take you home right now."

She blinks at him. "What?"

"Your clothes are in the chair on top of your bag. And-"

"You don't have to take me home."

"You're sick," he laughs, rubbing a hand in one eye and then scratching his jaw. "Never gonna let you go out into the city at three in the morning like this. Alone. No way."

"It's three?" she says. Oh. "Never mind. I'll just sleep on your couch and-"

"No way. Come on. I'll take you home."

"No, really, that's ridiculous. It's three in the morning. I can tough it out."

"Yes, true. We all know you're tough. But you're not sleeping on the couch," he says quietly. "Back to bed, Kate."

She stands there a second, and then she slumps toward his bed, slipping back under the now-cool sheets, pressing her cheek to the pillow. Her eyes sink shut and she feels him get in behind her, his palm pressing to her back.

She's just about to fall asleep when his mouth brushes against her shoulder. "Need anything. You wake me."


	2. Chapter 2

**The Spleen Is a Non-Vital Organ**

* * *

She sleeps all weekend, doesn't get the chance to even ask to go home. He does a lot of writing, which is good, even though he can feel that most of the scenes aren't exactly where he's going with this Nikki Heat novel. He'll never turn down the muse though.

Even if she is curled in his bed completely unconscious, drooling on his pillow.

And wow. Beckett can really sleep. She doesn't even move for the first day; she wakes at three in the afternoon and glares at him for nothing, then she rejects his offer to take her home and goes back to his bed to sleep.

Which is funny because Alexis finally goes back to the dorms feeling a lot better, even if she's still rundown.

The loft is apparently the place to be.

He gives up his bed because she's restless even as she sleeps, and he sacks out on the couch in his office, going back and forth between it and the chair as he writes. It's really good, actually, because having her in the next room lends a certain amount of pleased excitement, makes him fly through the scenes.

He gets a lot done while she's sick.

* * *

He wakes to the feel of her fingers sliding down his cheek, her thumb dipping into the cleft of his chin. His body startles hard, but he opens his eyes and sees her, smiles.

"You feeling better?"

"Yeah. And I got a call. I gotta go."

He glances around his study, realizes the light is blue and grey of an early morning, and it must be Monday already. "Oh. Where?"

"On Lexington. You wanna come?"

"You really feel up to it?"

She shrugs at him, but he can see she's already showered and dressed - her clothes a little wrinkled because she fell asleep before taking them out of her bag and he forgot to hang them up. She looks a little tired for a Monday morning after a weekend of sleep, but okay.

"Yeah. Leave me the address. I'll be fifteen minutes behind you."

She leans over him and kisses him on the cheek, softly, her lips lingering close to his mouth like she wants so much more but won't let herself.

He turns his head at the last minute and kisses her anyway.

She sighs.

He only grins up at her. "In for a penny. . ."

Her fingers stroke through his hair as she straightens. "I gotta go. I think the boys already texted you the address."

He wraps his fingers around her wrist in what he would admittedly call a dangerous move, but he feels the heat of her in that touch, felt it in her lips as well.

"You have a fever."

"I'll be fine. I'll pop some tylenol when I get to the station."

* * *

Lanie catches her before she can faceplant in the body of their latest victim. Castle actually yelps and rights her, and she elbows him off, waves away Lanie's concern.

"I'm okay. Just lost my - balance." Not her consciousness. Balance. She lost her balance.

"You look terrible," Lanie says then. She was showing Beckett and Castle the strange tattoos she'd discovered upon getting the body back to the morgue, and now Lanie's looking at her like she ought to go home.

"I'm fine," Kate says again.

"You're feverish," Castle blurts out.

She turns to glare at him, but it hurts. It actually hurts her eyeballs to glare at him.

This is not good.

* * *

The day is too long.

He just watches; he doesn't try to divert Kate Beckett. That's a lost cause, always has been. He watches her while she goes about the work of a murder investigation, the phone calls, the interviews, the commands to her team, her voice getting more and more hoarse as the day goes on.

He suggests Remy's for lunch but she waves him off; he gets enough for the four of them and brings it back. Milkshakes in to-go cups and french fries, burgers, a salad. He sets everything up in the conference room and he doesn't have to convince her. She eats the grilled chicken salad while she goes through reports, but she takes four bites of his burger, like she's sneaking it, and he pretends not to notice.

Her appetite is okay then. Of course, he can't remember if she ate anything this weekend at all. She slept for two days straight. Oh, there was the toast that one day.

She sucks the milkshake down pretty quickly, which makes him think her throat is sore - has to be, the way she sounds now. So while she's hunching over Ryan's computer as the detective scans surveillance video, Castle pops the lid off of her nearly empty cup and pours the rest of his own shake into hers.

When she next goes to pick it up, she startles a little bit, and her eyes fly to his. He shrugs and she salutes him with her cup, takes it with her as she goes back to the board.

It's only lunch. This day is entirely too long.

* * *

He takes her home to her apartment and it's nearly eight; they scarf down dinner (leftovers he made them a few days ago) standing at her kitchen counter and she looks pinched around the eyes and mouth.

"Go get a bath," he murmurs, taking their plates and running water in the sink. Her dishwasher is crap, and she often ends up doing them herself to avoid the hassle, so he rolls up his sleeves. She's got coffee mugs and plates piled up, probably because she spent her weekend with him.

"No, Castle, don't. I can do it later-"

"Bath, Kate." He turns his back on her and grabs the dish soap, squeezes it in as the water runs hot. He ignores her and after a few silent moments, he hears her leave the kitchen, heading for her bedroom and attached bath.

He sticks his hands in the water, feels his body relax with it. He takes his time, giving her room to decompress alone, be miserable in solitude. Alexis kept pushing him out of her room when she was at the loft; when she wanted company, she came downstairs and huddled on the couch. He knows Kate's not one to want company when she's feeling bad.

Heh. At least she hasn't run off to her father's cabin and not called him for three months.

Oh, look. _Now_ he can laugh about it. Will wonders never cease.

When Castle finally dries the last dish and puts it away, rolls his sleeves back down, he heads towards her bedroom, debating whether or not he should stay over. He doesn't have clothes with him, but that hardly matters. He's left a little collection of things at her place and it'll be fine - he could just go home in the morning, but she might want to be home, alone, do and be nothing for a while, not a girlfriend, not a person, just exist. He knows that feeling.

Well, no. Not really. But he understands it. Alexis does the same when she's sick. He's more the kind of person who wants everyone to know how miserable he is, to cater to him and love on him and wallow in it with him.

She's not in bed though. He pushes open the cracked bathroom door and peaks in.

Beckett's fallen asleep in the bath.

He sighs and comes in to wake her, sinks down beside the tub as his knees pop. He shakes his head and reaches out to brush his fingers across her cheek.

She's burning up. _Burning up._

She stirs and her lashes skim his palm, fly upward. She stares at him for a second, and then she seems to realize where she is.

"You have a fever," he tells her.

"No shit, Sherlock," she mumbles, and he huffs a laugh at her terrible comeback.

"Get out of the bath; I'll get you some tylenol."

"A lot of tylenol," she mutters.

As he stands to leave, he hears the water sloshing as she gets out.

* * *

She oversleeps.

It's Castle who wakes her at nearly eight, and she trips over her own feet as she gets out of bed, her mouth cursing and her brain unable to catch up. He's calling out to her that he'll get everything, _just go go go, Beckett,_ and she smashes her knee into the sink and gets shampoo in her eyes and gets out-

And Castle has picked out her clothes.

It fumbles her - flusters her - something. She stares for a second, her heart pounding.

_Screw it._

At least he didn't pick out her under-

Oh, he did.

She narrows her eyes but drops her towel and slides on the pair of panties he evidently thinks she should wear. Black, simple, and actually, huh, weird - she probably would have picked these herself.

Her cheeks are flushed when she buttons up her shirt; she peers at herself in the mirror and he's right.

He's right.

She's got-

No. No. Just-

She'll give it one more day, load her system up with drugs, and see what happens.

It is not mono. It's just a cold.

* * *

When Alexis calls him and says that _Meredith_ has mono (she called her daughter to complain that Alexis gave her mono and Paris is ruined, boo-hoo), that's it.

That does it.

He corners her in the break room while she's pouring them both coffee, props his hip against the counter, and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

She winces when she breathes in the rich, coffee aroma, like she can't take a deep breath. He narrows his eyes at her involuntary tell and studies the way she presses a thumb just under her ribs, remembers that move from Alexis.

"Does it ache?" he says, reaching out to brush her hand away, stroke her side.

"Uh," she prevaricates.

"Your spleen could be enlarged," he notes.

She shifts away from him and finishes stirring in creamer.

"You still have a fever," he pushes.

She sighs, turning with his coffee mug in her fingers, handing it over. He takes it, but he won't be deterred.

"Kate. You've had a fever for at least four days. Probably five."

"Five," she confirms softly. Her fingers go back to that spot, wincing as she pushes.

"Make a doctor's appointment."

"What can he do? It's not like you can get drugs for-"

"No. But you'll have a doctor's note and you can take sick leave."

"I haven't taken sick leave since. . .oh, well. I don't need to take any more time off."

That actually makes him snort with laughter; he shakes his head at her. "That wasn't exactly sick leave, Beckett. You got shot. You still have sick leave left."

Her nose wrinkles. "I've had too much time off."

"Doctor's appointment. You don't call him; I will."

She darts her eyes to the window of the break room, as if to check, and then she shifts closer to him, closer, the heat of her so intense that it makes his heart pound. Just a fever, he reminds himself. She's not hot for _you_, big idiot. Just a fever.

"Really?" she murmurs. "Gonna call my doctor for me?"

"Yes," he says firmly, not willing to back down.

She reaches for his belt, fingers tucking in at his waistband even as her eyebrow arches. "Like you picked out my panties for me this morning?"

Ohhhh, yes. That's right. He loves the way those silky black panties-

She chuckles.

"You're evil," he mutters, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. "Pure, amazing evil."

She hums something and takes his hand in hers, fingers drawing patterns over his skin. He opens his eyes to see the deepening want in hers. She smiles at him. "This is me. . ."

"Even your _hand_ is hot," he mutters.

"Somehow I'm getting the idea that you don't mean sexy-hot, but-"

"No, that too. Just - mostly fever-hot, Beckett. You're burning up."

Her face crumbles a little and she leans her forehead into his shoulder for one instant. A sigh. And then she lifts her head and takes her coffee. "Okay. I'll call. Leave me alone about it, Castle."

* * *

Castle only feels slightly triumphant when she goes to the doctor on Wednesday morning. He meets her at the precinct afterwards and she's wrinkling her nose at him.

He's right. She has mono. He can see it in that face she's making. He goes for humor.

"So now that you have mono, and Alexis, and Meredith - I think it's safe to call it stereo now, huh?"

She glares.

Okay, no humor.

"Where's my coffee?" she mutters at him.

"Right where it always is," he grins back, nodding at her desk.

She spins around and actually _wobbles_ on her heels; he catches her by the elbow and she doesn't even shrug him off.

Uh-huh.

"You gonna tell Gates?" he says in her ear, finally letting her go.

She sits down with a huff of a breath and closes her fingers over her coffee cup.

"Kate."

"I am. I will. I have a doctor's note." She wrinkles her nose again.

But he knows. "Because you're in a high-contact profession and-"

"I _know_, Castle," she growls. "And now I have to go tell Gates that I can't serve warrants. So, you know, cut me some slack here."

"I just think an enlarged spleen is something of a big deal, Beckett."

"The spleen is a non-vital organ," she mutters. "Don't even need it."

He presses his lips together, sits down in his chair at her side. That was humorous, but he won't let her moment of geekiness distract him, sexy-hot as it is. "But if it ruptures - that's kinda vital. So when are you telling her?"

"Let me just get this case cleared. We finally got a break and the boys will do the dirty work, okay? After that, tomorrow. Maybe Gates won't bite my head off if our case load is lighter."

He wants to argue, but he thinks maybe that's actually a pretty great compromise.

"Tomorrow then," he says finally. "Even if the case isn't closed. Tomorrow."

She gives him a short nod and stands up with the expo marker in hand, moves with determination to the murder board.

She's only a little shaky.

* * *

She feels fine.

Mostly.

She aches all over, and she slept for ten hours last night, but really, she can do her job. She's steady, her hands don't shake, she can do this.

But Gates has put her on desk duty for a _month _because of that stupid doctor's note, and she'd be more ticked if she didn't have that insidious voice circling in her brain - _ruptured spleen._

They didn't close the case yesterday, so she had to tell Gates this morning. She knows Castle would've beaten her to it; he would've busted her for sure. And he's not even here yet to take the brunt of her ire. As he so richly deservers.

She stares at the board and rubs two fingers at her mouth, then sighs and turns back to look at Esposito and Ryan.

"Let's try the neighborhood canvas again. We might have missed people who work a different shift, out of town for the holidays."

"You mean _us_," Espo says, a little more snark to his voice. "Not you. Right?"

She glares at him. "Yes. Fine. The two of you."

"Because you're sick," Ryan says.

She rolls her eyes and it hurts; she has to stop. "I know. It's ridiculous. Whatever. Go canvas."

"Without you," Esposito says. "Because you're on desk duty. For a cold."

"Shut up. It's his fault," she mutters, glaring at Castle as he walks into the bullpen at just that moment. He has coffee for her at least. She needs about twice as much caffeine as usual to get through the day.

"It's his fault?" Ryan squeaks.

"He's the one who got me like this," she says, but she reaches for her coffee with a pleased smile aimed at him anyway. Gotta forgive a man who comes bearing gifts. Especially since he hasn't been insufferable about being right.

"Right. He got you. . .sick."

"It is called the kissing disease, but I swear it's not my fault," Castle grumbles.

"It's not your _fault_?" Ryan sounds like he thinks Castle's statement is ludicrous. At least the boys are on her side.

"It's not," Castle insists. "She didn't get it from me."

"That's kinda cold, man," Esposito says, a little sneer in his voice. Wow. They are _really_ taking her side. She'd feel bad for Castle except he's the one who gave her the damn cold.

Mono. Fine. Whatever.

She lifts her cup to her mouth but suddenly Ryan grabs her elbow with a nervous look. She stares at him.

"Kev?"

He lets go of her and glances back to Esposito, as if for help, and then to Castle. She stares at all three of them, trying to figure out what exactly is going on here. She narrows her eyes but Castle looks just as bewildered by Ryan's aborted attempt. Espo though - he has some idea. He's hissing at Ryan and yanking him away.

Her head is pounding and her bones ache, so Kate ignores them and drinks her coffee.

Ryan elbows off Esposito and clears his throat. "Honestly, Beckett, I didn't expect you to get there before me."

She gives him a confused half-smile. "I - you weren't exactly in close contact."

He blushes bright red. "Well. I - we - I work a lot. I'm here all the time."

"Okay, well," Kate says slowly. "That's true. I guess it could - I mean it _is_ catching."

"It's catching?" Ryan's mouth drops open. "But that's just - that's an old wives' tale. Right. Like don't drink the water. Because I know Jenny really - but I'm not sure I can - I'm just not really ready for that up all night, sleepless, exhausted part."

She shrugs at him. "It's actually - I mean it's wearing me out. Ask Castle. I'm totally boring. I sleep from the moment I get home and don't wake until my alarm or a body drop."

Ryan is staring at her, and then he swivels his head to Castle. "You guys are really calm about this."

She frowns, something tickling at her, something off. He said something about an old wives' tale - which, okay, the kissing disease, yeah, but what's going on here? Esposito is giving Ryan his patented _shut up_ look, but for what?

"Ryan," Espo says finally. "We got to canvas. Shut your mouth and let's go."

Ryan shakes him off. "I'm really - I'm happy for you guys. It's - really - it seems like you're doing really well with the news, and it'll be - yeah, I can't wait to be Uncle Ryan."

Uncle-

"I'm not _pregnant_-"

"She's not pregnant!"

Esposito holds up both hands, as if placating her. Them. Her. "No, right. Of course not. You're on desk duty for a cold. We got it. But what are you gonna tell Gates when your month is up? A new sickness? You gotta think this through, guys."

She balls her hand into a fist and punches him - hard - in the shoulder. "I am not pregnant, you big-"

"Stand down, Beckett," he hisses, rubbing his shoulder. "You got a nasty streak. Is it the hormones?"

"She's not pregnant," Castle panics, stepping between her and Esposito as if trying to forestall another punch. Ha. Fat chance. She will go through him if she has to. "Come on, guys. She's not pregnant. Would I be this calm?"

Would he be-

She punches him next and he grunts and shoots her a look over his shoulder. "I'm on your _side_ here, Kate."

"I am not pregnant," she growls, lowering her voice because they are still in the middle of the precinct. "I'm not pregnant. I have mono. I got it from Castle - or his kid, or maybe Meredith-"

"You got the _kissing disease from Meredith_?" Esposito gapes.

She totally ignores him. "And what the _hell_, Castle - 'would I be this _calm'?_ You're the one who's done it before. You better be calm-"

"This isn't exactly convincing me," Esposito interrupts.

She glares hotly at him. "I've got mono. It's mono, Javier."

"You'd tell us if you were though, right?" Ryan asks.

"You _guys_," she flares, stepping forward only to be blocked by Castle.

A voice issues from the front of the bullpen: "Is there a problem, Detectives? Mr Castle?"

They start guiltily and glance up at Captain Gates. Castle's the only one to find his voice.

"No, sir. Not a problem at all. I just forgot to get Ryan and Esposito's coffees. My mistake."

"Well, then, Mr Castle. Since benching my detective is - I hear - your fault, and since you're going back out anyway, I'll take a large house blend, black."

Gates turns on her heel and goes back inside her office.

The whole bullpen is staring at her and taking a long measuring look at her abdomen.

She glares them back into submission - all of them. "It's mono. Mono. He gave me mono."

Oh. That doesn't seem to help, really.

Kate lets out a slow, long breath and slumps down to her desk, cradling her coffee against her chest with both hands.

And then she hears him laughing.

Laughing.

She glances up and catches Castle's eye, but she can't help the grin that cracks her face at the look on his.

"Are you sure you're not pregnant?" Ryan asks.

"Ryan!"

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks to carto for her symptoms of mono and to all of you who emailed and PMed and reviewed. This one was fun. Almost diabolical.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Spleen Is A Non-Vital Organ**

* * *

She really tries; she does. She goes in to work on Friday morning with every intention of being a good, _desked_ cop and doing paperwork, writing up the murder board, making cold calls. She really tries.

She faints in the break room, a slow slump against the counter that smacks her knees painfully into the cabinets, her elbows hooked against the sink, coffee spilling down the drain as the cup tumbles out of her hands.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Ryan startles, running to catch her.

Castle comes in the moment her vision tunnels and goes black, and she hears his grunt of displeasure the second before she loses all feeling in her fingers and her legs stop working.

She wakes on the break room couch with her feet propped up and her head pounding and her body so drugged feeling that it takes effort to open her eyes. Actual effort. To lift her eyelids.

This is not good.

Ryan is hovering; Castle sits at her hip. Esposito snorts at her.

"Did I black out?" she groans, pulling her knees up and trying to sit.

"You fainted," Espo states. She smells coffee; it's stained her shirt. "You fainted like a girl."

She grunts, but Castle grins at her. "Doesn't help dispel the pregnancy rumors floating around."

"Shut your mouth," she hisses, slapping at his shoulder as she wriggles to a sitting position, feet on the floor.

"I think you should go home," Ryan says cautiously. "You're..."

"Not pregnant, Ryan." Kate closes her eyes. She really tried, tried to do it, tried to make it. She really-

"Beckett?"

"Yeah," she rasps, giving in. Her eyes open and Castle has nothing but sympathy for her; it's there in his eyes, brimming over.

"Yeah," he nods. "I'm taking you home. In case you - you know - faint like a girl again."

"Shut _up_," she groans, but he's right. She feels light-headed even now.

* * *

Castle doesn't carry her - per se - from the car, but it's a close thing. She leans on him heavily, her eyes keep closing like she can't stay awake, and she has that cute, adorable, dopey look on her face that she has when she's falling asleep on top of him on the couch.

She startles and jerks, her heels dragging against the sidewalk as he pulls her out of the car. He slams the door shut and raps his knuckles on the hood to let the driver know they're clear - he called the service, thinking it would be easier - and Kate tries to step away, on her own two feet.

She sways, but he leaves her to her own devices. Kate stands before her apartment building and stares up; he waits on her because he doesn't know what that look on her face means.

She turns and her eyes are clouded, hazed over with exhaustion; he's seen that enough to know she's hit a wall.

"Castle."

"Yeah?"

"I thought you said you were taking me to your loft," she murmurs, tilting her head back to look at her building once more. Like she can't quite believe how quickly she's gotten so confused. "Right? I heard..."

He smirks but puts it away before she can see it. "I said home. I was taking you home."

She sucks in a breath and her hand comes to her forehead. "Oh."

"Would you rather-?"

"No, that's - okay," she sighs. "I just want to crawl in bed."

"Okay," he murmurs back, taking her by the elbow and guiding her towards the doors. "You have your key?"

"Yeah," she scrapes out, clearing her throat. She walks a little steadier now, and he's impressed that the heels don't seem to faze her. Castle keeps a hand on her just in case and he slips his fingers into her jacket pocket for her key ring.

It's a simple deadbolt for the front door; he hustles them into the cramped foyer and swipes the key fob over the plate. The interior security door buzzes and releases the lock, and Kate steps in ahead of him, looking better than she has since the break room couch.

He follows her up the stairs, being certain to keep a hand at her back as they mount the steps. She sways when they get to the top, stumbles back one step, but Castle catches her, keeps her steady.

"Oof," she mutters. "Wow. This is... I don't know how Alexis is doing college if she feels like this."

Castle smiles a little and slides his arm around her waist, walking her down the hall towards her apartment. "She seems to be okay. But I should call and check on her."

Kate hums something unintelligible and walks crookedly, a little away from him, and he lets go to unlock her front door. She lets out a sigh as she steps through, and then she's heading straight for the couch and slumping down onto it, collapsing like a rag doll.

Her head tilts back and he stands in the middle of her kitchen, watching her eyes close, watching her whole body give up fighting it.

Yeah. She's really sick.

* * *

Kate jerks awake at the harsh ringing, eyes startling open to see Castle cursing to himself and yanking his phone out of his pocket.

He answers in a hush, throwing an apologetic look her way and she realizes she's got both of her boots off. How did-?

Oh. Sweet; he must have been trying to get her to bed.

Kate tilts forward and puts her elbows on her knees, vaguely registers that Castle must be talking to his daughter. Her head swims and the blood rushes loudly in her ears for a moment, and then everything stills.

She pushes off her knees and stands, blinking back the sensation of spinning, fighting gravity to remain on her feet. Her mouth is dry and it feels like she's been hit by a truck, but she can probably make it to bed.

Probably.

"No, pumpkin, don't worry. Beckett's okay. She's sick, but she's okay." He lifts his head and glances at her, a torn look on his face, and Kate raises an eyebrow in question.

He pulls the phone away from his mouth. "Kate. I..."

Oh. Oh, Alexis needs him. "You go," she says immediately, shaking her head and definitely regretting it. Ooh, really regretting. Kate closes her eyes and stays very still, very still. Don't move.

"Alexis, call me when you get home, okay?"

She cracks one eyelid and sees Castle come for her, concern on his face, such terrible indecision. But no, no worries, no brainer. This one is easy. "You go."

"But you-"

"I'm tired, Castle," she rasps, wanting suddenly to sit down. But no. No, wait she _is_ sitting down now. Oh. That's no better.

"Yeah. I know. I'll get you-"

"No." Her eyelids drop and then slowly rise again. She feels wiped out. "I just... need to sleep. You should go home, take care of Alexis."

He frowns but she waves him off. She really _can _make it to the bedroom. Oh, but the couch is soft too. Perfectly fine.

She licks her lips and glances up at him. "I'll call you, okay?"

Castle's face washes in grief, so suddenly, so sharply, that Kate stands, nearly tripping over her own feet.

"Castle?"

He shakes his head and carefully steps away. "Right. Call me. Yeah."

She snags his elbow before he can turn his back on her, and she can't fight the wave of dizziness that swallows her, makes her stumble after him like being caught in a rip tide.

"Castle," she slurs, blinking hard past the exhaustion. "Cas - whoa."

"Kate." He turns too quickly and she's knocked off balance by the movement, the blood draining right out of her head, but Castle catches her. "I got you."

"I'm good. I'm okay," she murmurs. "Just gonna sleep. Don't worry. I'll call you."

"Those really aren't my favorite words," he mutters, his fingers gripping her elbow a little too tightly.

"What?" She closes her eyes and dips her head, tries to get her balance back. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Never mind. You should get to bed."

She really just wants to sleep, but there's something else going on here that she can't understand, something about the words she's said that 'aren't his favorite'. Kate cracks an eyelid, sees the sorrow that chases over his face before he can rein it in, sees the flicker of old wounds. She struggles to straighten up, eyes burning, rough and sharp in her head, definitely still feverish, and she stares at him.

She doesn't have the energy to figure that out, but she thinks maybe she shouldn't let him go. Shouldn't have him go alone. Whatever it is.

"I'm so tired," she sighs, leaning into him, letting her eyes close. "Can you just take me home?"

Whoops. She meant. His home.

Oh well.

"Yeah," he says, very quietly, his voice rough. "I like that a lot better."


	4. Chapter 4

** The Spleen Is a Non-Vital Organ**

* * *

When Kate steps over the threshold of his loft and her shoulders slump, her whole body slumps really, Castle recognizes what he did.

He made it about him.

He didn't mean to do that.

"Kate. Bed or medicine. Or both?"

"Both is good," she sighs out, her fingers nerveless on her keys. Castle leans forward and catches them before they fall, takes her jacket off her shoulders. He's carrying the bag he packed for her at her place, and he brings everything into his bedroom, calling out to her so she'll follow the sound of his voice.

"Here, we'll put this stuff right here in the chair. And you can change into pajamas or whatever, get right in bed. I'll bring you tylenol and some water-"

He stumbles to a halt when Kate's arms slide around his waist from behind, her hot cheek against his neck. She's back in those heeled boots he took off at her place, and they make her tall, but she seems to be hunching over into him. Using him as support.

Castle sighs and pats the back of her clasped hands over his sternum, begins to slowly pry her loose. She drags her cheek across his shoulder and then moves toward his bed. Castle lets her go, digs out pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt from the bag.

"I want yours," she says, her fingers already fumbling at the buttons of her collared shirt. "One of yours. Can I?"

He lifts both eyebrows in mute shock, but she misses it as she sinks slowly back into the pillows, closing her eyes, both of her hands at the buttons of her shirt but not moving. Wow, mono has hit her hard.

"Uh. Yeah. Course." Castle turns for his dresser and opens a drawer at random, blindly pulling out a Justice League tshirt, his mouth still moving but nothing else coming out. When he tries to hand it to her, she's curled on her side on top of the comforter, eyes closed, gone.

Castle sighs and drops down beside her, rubs his hand over her hip. "Kate."

She stirs and blinks; her fingers flex and stretch across the bedding before she groans. "I'm so tired."

"Yeah, I can see that. Here are your pajamas, Kate. Let me go get the tylenol before you completely pass out."

"Where's Alexis?"

"On her way," he murmurs. He can't help the sudden urge to stroke his fingers at her cheek and push the hair out of her face, his thumb smudging under her eye. She shifts her gaze to him, slow blinks of those dark lashes, and then she painstakingly sits up, reaching for her buttons again.

Castle stands and heads out to the kitchen for the tylenol.

* * *

Kate wakes to a shadow passing over her and an intent, pale face like a moon. Still partly in a dream, she jerks to the sensation of falling, Alexis hovering over her.

"Whoa," Kate gasps, a hand pressed to her heart, at the scar where it pounds. "What. Alexis."

"Sorry, I'm sorry. I was just checking on you. Dad went out to get lunch. Are you okay?"

"Are _you_ okay?" Kate says back, easing upright in the bed. Her head spins and she blinks through it, doesn't feel comfortable with his daughter seeing her like this.

"I'm just tired. Again. It seems to come and go now." Alexis fumbles a step back, a glass in her hand. "Are you - I was going to get you some more water."

Kate stares blankly at her for a second and then catches on. "Oh. You don't have to do that. I'm... mostly just sleeping, I think. So. Don't worry about it."

"I'm sorry, Kate," Alexis blurts out. "It's my fault you're sick."

"You didn't do it on purpose," she says carefully. "Anyway, I probably got it from your dad."

Alexis stares at her a moment too long and then Kate freezes, deer in the headlights, tries to figure out a way to erase the images that must be in Alexis's head now. _Kissing disease._

"Uh. I'm. I..." Alexis stammers and backs up again. "I'll get you water. And more tylenol. Dad will be back soon."

The girl scurries out, if a girl in the last stages of mono really can scurry, and Kate flops back onto the pillows and rubs a hand over her face.

She should... she should... something. But she's too tired to move, too tired to care.

Kate curls on her side and puts her nose into Castle's pillow, sinks like a stone into sleep.

* * *

When he gets home and sets the bags on the counter, Alexis is huddled on the couch with a blanket over her. "Hey, baby bird. You okay?"

Alexis lifts her head, something weary in her eyes that makes him sympathetic, and she gives a little shrug. "I'm okay. It's just - all of the sudden, Dad, I am so tired."

"Well, you've had a full week back at classes, you probably went out over the weekend. It's just going to take some time to fully recover."

She gives a morose sigh and settles back down into her nest, so Castle unfolds the white bag and pulls out the large plastic tub of chicken noodle soup. He pries open the lid and the salty scent of home-made broth wafts up. From the drawer next to the fridge, he snags a couple of spoons, and then he opens the cabinet for bowls.

"Dad."

"Yeah, pumpkin?"

"Kate woke up."

"She's awake?" He spins around and darts a look back towards the bedroom, but there's nothing.

"No, I mean. I went in to... get her some water. She woke up. But then she fell asleep again."

"Huh, okay. You want soup?"

"I'm so tired of soup."

Castle pauses in his efforts and raises his head to study his daughter. She's slumped in the corner watching television on mute - when is _that_ a good sign? - and her arms are curled up to her chest, her cheek on the armrest of the couch. Why was she in the bedroom looking at Kate? Getting her some water?

"Okay. What do you want instead?" he says softly. He plants his hands on the counter as the soup steams. "I can make you a grilled cheese."

Alexis lifts her head and turns around, a hopeful look on her face. "Would you, Daddy?"

Huh, yeah, something going on here. "Yeah, course. Coming right up."

"You can - you should give Kate hers first," Alexis says suddenly, her cheek now propped up on the back of the couch. "While it's still hot. You should go check on her."

Castle gives his daughter a slow smile. "You sure?"

"Mm-hmm," she murmurs and turns back to curl up in the couch again.

Okay, whatever it is, it's not dislike. At least there's that.

He takes the bowl he already poured, spoon rattling, and grabs the tupperware of saltines, passes right behind the couch to knock Alexis in the head with his elbow. She laughs and gives him a sweeter look, smiling again, and he winks back at her as he moves for the bedroom.

And Kate.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Spleen Is a Non-Vital Organ**

* * *

Kate spills out of sleep in a tumble of sheets and disorientation, her lips dry and her throat on fire.

"Hey," he says. A hand falls to her shoulder, runs up to her neck, tugs away the bedsheets she's tangled in. She cracks open her eyes and sees Castle sitting by her hip on the mattress, loosening the covers, sliding a hand down her thigh. She's curled up to a pillow, half on her stomach, and she feels like crap.

"I need some water," she rasps, licking her lips as she shifts upward. Castle's hand comes at her neck, like he's going to help her sit, and she swats him away, wincing at the relentless pounding in her head.

"I've got water right here, Kate. And soup, crackers. I'm going to make Alexis a grilled cheese, if you want one of those too."

She presses a hand to her lips and closes her eyes a second, shakes her head. Not even sure about the soup, actually. The effort of eating just seems entirely out of her reach.

"You feel nauseated?" he murmurs.

"No," she says, feels a smile flicker along her lips. "Good word choice."

"Perils of the job," he says softly, and he sounds like he's smiling too. "If you felt nauseous, you'd feel like you had the propensity to make someone _else_ throw up."

"However - that might also be a pertinent question," she mumbles, not really sure why they're having a stupid, pedantic conversation about diction. "If I threw up, I bet you would too."

"Saying I can't hold my cookies? I'll have you know, I've done my share of hair-holding," he murmurs, making her open her eyes again to see him. He's hovering at her side, a fist planted into the mattress, his gaze traveling over her like he can't take her word for it that she's okay, he has to check for himself.

"Not gonna throw up, Castle. Promise." Kate unfurls her fingers over his thigh and tucks her hand behind his drawn up knee, snug there. He's giving her a look now she can't interpret, doesn't have the energy to even try, and so she leans forward into him, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

Castle stays perfectly still for a heartbeat, and then he wraps an arm around her shoulders, loosely, brushing a kiss to the top of her head.

She breathes in and out, resting, feels the tap of his fingers at her spine like her bones are the keys and he's writing out a story at her ribs. She drifts on the sensation, his chest pushing out against hers with the rise of his breath, and it makes her eyes so hard to keep open.

"Although," he says suddenly. "I might make you nauseous."

"Huh?" She stirs, lifting her eyes to catch sight of him but her head hurts too much and she burrows into his neck instead, closer. "You don't make me sick."

He chuckles. "Someone did. I sometimes do, right? I can be kinda-"

"No," she mumbles, wriggling closer. "No, no. Never."

She could fall asleep right here, just like this.

* * *

Castle nudges her elbow and she rouses, bringing the half sandwich to her mouth once more, her head propped on his shoulder. After he made Alexis her lunch, his daughter fell asleep on the couch without even touching hers, and he's not going to let that happen again. Someone's got to appreciate his culinary skills.

They sit side by side in his bed, the soup cooling on the nightstand, a sleeve of crackers near her knee, and the television running a Psych marathon. Kate murmurs something, chewing so slowly that Castle can feel her jaw muscles working, and he glances over at her again, sees her lids drooping.

"Kate."

"Yeah," she rasps, her arm curled up at her chest, holding the sandwich close but not quite there. "No, I'm awake."

"Barely."

She doesn't even answer that, and he feels her swallow against him. Her knees are drawn up and digging into his thigh, her other arm hooked through his, her body so heavy she can't possibly stay awake much longer.

Her hand drops, sandwich in her lap, fingers relaxing one by one, her breath coming slower and slower until she's gone.

Castle turns down the volume on the television and sets the remote to one side, movements restricted so he won't disturb her. A lock of her hair falls forward and hides her cheek, tumbles over her lips, so he sweeps it back. Her arm through his twitches and tightens; he cups her jaw to keep her from falling off his shoulder, eases them back against the headboard at a steeper angle.

Kate sighs out.

He takes the half-eaten sandwich from her fingers, eyes the empty bowl on her side of the bed. He makes a few practice motions and then lobs the sandwich towards the bowl. Soup splashes and he grins - _two points._

She snuffles at his shoulder, another jerk of her body as if she can't stand to let awareness go, and Castle stays still, breathes slowly until she's settled again. When her mouth falls open near his collarbone and her lashes stop fluttering, he risks drawing his arm behind her knees and easing her down in the bed.

His arm is under her head now, her body a parenthesis on top of the sheets. Castle slides a palm up her thigh and rests his hand at her hip, studying the weary lines of her face and the soft fall of her lashes on those bladed cheeks.

"Dad?"

He startles and Kate moves in her sleep; he lifts his head and sees Alexis haunting the doorway.

"Hey, you need me?" he whispers. He can't help taking another look at Kate, just to check, but she's shifted off his arm and burrowed into the pillow. So he slips out of bed and takes the bowl of soup, glances to Alexis hovering just inside the door.

She drags her gaze to his. "I... thanks for my sandwich. I finished it just now."

He tilts his head. "Hey. No problem. I know you're exhausted."

She's watching him, her eyes flicking every now and then to Kate, so he keeps cleaning things up, putting the crackers back in the tupperware container, closing the lid. He gathers it up against his chest and takes the bowl of soup as well, the empty glass, and then he turns and heads for the kitchen.

Alexis trails after him.

* * *

Castle waits for her to bring it up, whatever it is. He throws away the soggy half-eaten sandwich, dumps the soup down the garbage disposal.

"I put the container in the fridge," Alexis speaks up.

"Thanks," he says warmly. He leaves the crackers on the counter; Kate ate a handful and she might want some more. "You want to watch a movie? Hang out on the couch? Zombie marathon this time, or - ooh - we could go for alien invasions." He wriggles his eyebrows at her but she's not even looking at him.

Alexis trails her fingers over the counter and shifts on her feet; her hair is pulled back in a pony tail that's started to come down, but her eyes look better than when she arrived. "No, I'm okay. I have my laptop and I should do some school. I'm really behind."

"No, pumpkin, you should rest tonight. You can do school work tomorrow morning."

Alexis draws in a little breath and sinks her elbows against the counter. "Yeah. But. You should watch a movie with Kate. What kind of marathons does she like? Maybe buddy-cop movies. You just bought Bad Boys 2, remember?"

He narrows his eyes, trying to figure her out. "Kate's asleep," he says pointedly.

"I will be too," Alexis shrugs, a little huff of laughter in her tone. "So don't let that stop you."

Castle drops his hands at his sides and faces her. "What is this about, Alexis?"

She opens her mouth, closes it with a pretty flush of her cheeks. "I just don't want her to leave."

"Right now," he smirks. "I doubt she could get out the door."

Alexis slumps into the bar chair and lays her cheek against her palm, leaning heavily. She looks pretty worn out herself. "I mean... is she mad at you? I don't want her to be mad at you."

"Why would she be mad at me?"

"Cause I got her sick. She was here that whole time and she'd sit with me on the couch and I feel bad because now she can't even go to work. It's because of us she can't do her job. I mean... I know how much she needs to be a cop. You keep telling me-"

"God, it sounds pretty pathetic like that," a voice floats to them.

Castle glances past Alexis and sees Kate on her feet in the living room, Justice League looking a little sad on her thin bones, the pajama pants sagging at her hips.

"I can't even think about work, let alone hatch escape plans, Alexis." She quirks her lips and shuffles towards them, slowly, a wince in her eyes as she swallows. Castle can see his daughter anxiously stand, hovering somewhere in between.

"I didn't mean... I meant. I'm sorry for getting you sick."

Kate makes a fluttering motion with one hand and sinks down against the counter, sliding carefully into the seat next to the one Alexis gave up. His daughter looks to him first, then to Kate, and then helplessly back to him. Castle nods for her to sit down and Alexis gingerly takes the chair.

Kate perks up a little and curls a smile at him. "Where's that soup? My throat's killing me."

"You're not going to fall asleep, do a face plant in it, are you?"

She props her head up on one hand, a mirror to the way Alexis looked only a second ago. "Don't think so. Alexis will rescue me, right? I hear you have Red Cross training."

His daughter startles a laugh. And then a sly slide of her eyes towards Kate. "I think I'll leave Dad to do the mouth to mouth."

Castle cracks up and Kate flushes bright red - a red so deep that it stains her throat and blushes her temples - but she chokes on a laugh as well. "I'm screwed then. Your dad's been squirmy about germs."

"Hey, now. Don't disparage my reputation. I'll always save you," Castle growls in disagreement and then he heads for her, brushing past Alexis to snake his hand at Kate's neck, barely giving her warning before he presses his mouth against hers.

She sucks in a startled, laughing breath, and her fingers curl tightly at his forearm, receiving his kiss with a hesitant touch of her tongue, and then Castle lets her go.

Kate hums, a smile spreading. "I stand corrected."

"Dad? Did you forget? It's the _kissing_ disease."


End file.
